


In Sickness and in Health

by Tashilover



Series: Claw and dagger [6]
Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Dragon AU, Manipulation, dub-con situations, magical au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-09
Updated: 2014-06-09
Packaged: 2018-02-04 00:32:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1760803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tashilover/pseuds/Tashilover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Martin meets one of his former flames.</p><p> </p><p>Another portion of the Claw and Dagger series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Sickness and in Health

**Author's Note:**

> If you been following me (and if you have, congrats on staying this long, you lovely person you!) this is an independent fic from the 'canon' series.

The constant shifting and bumping was making Martin sick. He wanted it to stop, begged for it to stop. A headache was pounding fiercely on the right side of his brain. He moaned.

A gentle small hand was put on his back. "Are you going to be sick?"

Martin moaned again in response.

"I guess it's safe to stop now," said the female voice. "But don't try anything funny."

The bumping immediately stopped. There was shifting and Martin was suddenly being pulled off the horse. He nearly stumbled as his feet struck ground. The bag was pulled off his head and fresh clean air allowed him to breathe.

The woman let him to sink to his knees, letting him to savor the ground to steer his head. "Please," he said. "Please."

"I've seen you fly with the dragon," said the woman. She pulled out a flask from the pouch hanging off her horse. She kneeled down in front of him. "I thought you could handle motion sickness better than this."

"I'm not riding with my head hanging off the side," Martin hissed at her.

She shrugged and popped the top off the flask, angling towards his lips. "Drink."

He did. Fresh cool water dribbled into his mouth and he swallowed quickly. When some of it dribbled down the side of his mouth, dripping off his chin, the woman leaned over with a handkerchief to dap it away.

Martin wretched his head away. "Don't touch me."

The woman sighed. "I was just trying to be nice."

"If you really want to be nice," Martin said. "You can cut me loose and set me free."

"Sorry. That's not how kidnappings go. But if you're really good, maybe I'll let you ride without the bag."

Martin considered telling her where she could shove her bag. He resisted. He didn't want to be on his stomach, drapped across the horse like a rug, unable to breath properly and unable to see. Biting down his scathing remark, he said, "I agree."

The woman smiled. "That's the spirit, Martin!" She slapped his knee twice.

"You may address me as _Your Highness_."

"God, you never outgrew that, did you?"

He gaped at her. "How dare you to presume you know me."

The woman shook her head fondly at him. "You don't really remember me, do you Martin?"

Martin drew back, his whole body stiff with denial and resentment and wanting to tell this woman to stop acting as if they were friends. Friends do not come into your home, poison your dragon, and swift you away in the middle of the night.

A little worm of doubt entered his head, making his way towards his memories. The further it went, more and more Martin looked into this woman's face, trying desperately to see _her_.

Finally, it clicked. "Theresa?"

She smiled at him, her beautiful brown eyes sparkling. "Hello old friend."

 

 

 

 

 

He remembered loving her hair. Her hair was big and brown and curled so tightly no matter how many hours her maids worked on her head, Theresa's braids always broke. When she wasn't needed for lessons, her mother let her run in the yard, her hair open and free, swaying in the wind.

Martin was the only boy she allowed to touch her head because he was the only one who wouldn't pull. "One day," Martin said as he buried his face into her curls. "I'm going to marry you."

Theresa giggled. "Why? So you can just play with my hair?"

"Well, why not? Simon got married for a silly reason. Besides, I heard our parents talking. I'm sure you're going to be mine when we get older."

"Forget that," Theresa said, slapping his hands away from her head. She stood up, puffing out her chest and placing her hands on her hips. "My kingdom is richer than yours. I'm sure _you_ are going to be _mine_."

He turned away from her, purposely pouting. "Now I'm not so sure I want to marry you."

"Yes, you do," she cooed, throwing herself on his back, letting her hair flop over his face.

 

 

 

 

 

The last time they saw each other they were sixteen. Though there was no official agreement, everyone had assumed Martin and Theresa were going to be together one day.

Then within a few months, due to a magical plague, the population and the economy in Theresa's kingdom died. Theresa was suddenly a princess without a dowry, and nobody wanted to touch her or her kingdom with a ten foot pole.

Martin begged his father to help her. Send envoys, give loans, anything to keep her kingdom from collapsing under its own weight. In the end, Theresa's father arranged a marriage between her and another kingdom. By the time the news had traveled back to Martin, she had already left to be married.

"I thought I would never see you again," said Martin, gaping. "You... I sent you letters. You never replied."

"I was married, Martin," Theresa said, huffing. "No husband would allow their wife to continue their relationship with another man."

"Then why are you doing this?" Martin tried once again to tug at his bindings, as if the revelation had loosened them somehow. "You poisoned my dragon! How could you?"

"I didn't kill him, Martin," Theresa said, like it was no big deal. "I only gave him enough to show him I mean business."

"Business!"

Theresa opened her mouth, then suddenly closed it, her head tilting to the side as if she heard something. Martin saw the cue and tried to listen too, but Theresa was suddenly moving, grabbing Martin, hauling him up and back onto the horse. "No more questions," she said, dropping all familarity. "We ride."

 

 

 

 

 

Theresa thankfully allowed Martin to ride in a proper position, but she wouldn't release the ropes bounding his arms. She let him rest when he asked for it, then stopped when she realized he was stalling. After that, she decided the rest times.

They rode for _hours_. They rode for so long Martin wondered if the horse was even alive at this point. Martin asked her questions, where were they going, how long was it going to take them, and she ignored him.

By the time they stopped, it was only a half-hour till sunset. "We can rest here."

Martin did not groan in relief though he wanted to. Riding Douglas (and being ridden _by_ him) involved a lot more endurance, but Martin didn't do it for seven straight hours. His shoulders were also screaming for relief, to get his arms out of this awful position.

"If Douglas is alive," Martin groaned once Theresa let him off the horse. "He will find me."

Theresa, amazingly, grinned. "That, I have no doubt."

Martin gaped at her. "You want him to find you?"

"If I didn't want him to find me, I would have added more poison to his morning coffee and ended his life. But that was not the point."

"Then what is the point?"

Theresa paused. She bit her lip, considering her answer. "It's happening all over again, Martin. The economy in my husband's kingdom has collapsed. And I do not have daughters or sons to marry off."

"And that's why I'm here?" Martin said. "You're holding me for ransom?"

"I'm holding you for _marriage_."

Martin gaped. Blush bloomed across his cheeks as he tried to rationalize what she had just told him. "Huh- wha?"

Theresa kneeled down in front of him and she reached out, as if to touch his face. Martin moved away from her hand. She pulled back, curling in her fingers, looking hurt. "My husband died two years ago," she said. "The economy in my husband's kingdom was not... grand but it was stable. After his death, everything took a nosedive. I offered myself in marriage for others, but I do not have a dowry or my virginity to offer."

"Where do I come into this?"

She smiled at him, soft and kind. Goddamn, even after all this time, she was still the most beautiful woman Martin has ever met. "There are loopholes that I can take, that you can take. Marry _me_ , agree to be _my_ husband."

Suddenly Martin was reminded of all of his childhood fantasies. Theresa in a white wedding dress. Having kids with her, having her by his side as they both grew old together. "Theresa... I... I'm already married."

She did a small movement with her head, indicating guilt for her next words. "Your marriage with the dragon, Martin, is not recognized by the church."

Martin began sputtering, trying to deny it. He couldn't. She was right, the marriage wasn't recognized by the church and was only legal through signed contracts. In fact, if Martin chose to do so, he could say to a priest he wanted out of the dragon marriage and they would offer him sanctuary or even marry him to another.

"I... I can't," Martin said. "If I nullify the contract between Douglas and I, it would lead to war."

Theresa nodded, understanding. "I see. Then there is no way around it."

"Around what?"

"I offered marriage, but since you do not wish to be my husband, I've decided to hold you for ransom."

 

 

 

 

 

After that, there was no more talking. Theresa ignored all questions, all inquires, only stopping to rest or eat. She never once untied Martin's hands. At least she didn't put the cover back on his head.

Martin was sure if he could just get one of his arms loose, he could overpower her. He didn't want to fight her, he wanted to run away.

"Why didn't you come to me?" Martin asked. He wasn't sure if Theresa would even answer him. "My dragon is very rich, I'm sure we could have worked something out without poisoning my spouse."

Theresa snorted. The sound was so undignified for a person of such status that Martin wondered if he misheard her.

"You're so naive," Theresa said. "if you honestly believe I didn't try."

"What?" Martin jerked in her grip.

"I have sent _numerous_ letters and envoys to your dragon," Theresa spat. "I was rejected, every time. Your dragon never once even bothered to give me council."

No, that was impossible. Martin didn't believe it.

Douglas _always_ got envoys, letters, summonings and carrier pigeons, every day. Thousands of them. He had the elves separate them, giving him only the ones that demanded his immediate attention.

Martin often watched him. It was fascinating to see this gigantic creature put on an old pair of gold rim glasses as he sorted through letter after letter after letter. Sometimes he would set a letter ablaze, muttering darkly of its uselessness, and tossing the burning remains aside to extinguish itself in some forgotten corner. Other times he would pass the letter over, giving it to another elf, telling it how much gold to give to the poor kingdom that was in financial trouble. Douglas didn't give gold to every kingdom that asked for it, instead choosing to send cows or farming tools instead.

There was no way he could have ignored Theresa. He would have responded in some way.

"Something must have gone wrong," Martin said. "Douglas would have never ignored you."

Theresa snorted again, darker this time. "Same old Martin. Innocent as a newborn babe."

"I-"

"Has it ever occurred to you your dragon may not feel comfortable with corresponding with your former flame?"

"He's not that petty-"

"Or perhaps he truly doesn't care what happens to my kingdom. He can't help every sob story that comes his way."

"Perhaps not directly him, but he has allies he could call upon-"

"Or maybe, he knows a failure when he sees one. Why bother helping out a kingdom that was about to fold?"

"Enough!" Martin yelled. His outburst had Theresa jerk the reigns, and they stopped abruptly. "I do not know what happened, why Douglas did not answer your envoys! But this is going too far!"

Theresa actually looked ashamed for doing this. Her cheeks pinked, and Martin hated the fact that he thought the colour made her look even lovelier.

The emotion didn't last for long. The next second the muscle in her cheek tightened and she said flatly, "I will do what I have to do for my people."

Suddenly, she shoved a rag into Martin's mouth, silencing him.

"No more talking."

 

 

 

 

 

By the time they set up for camp, Martin was exhausted. He was used to riding horses, but riding them for hours while his hands and feet were tied was a totally different matter. The gag in his mouth was disgustingly wet with his saliva, his jaw aching sharply. When Theresa finally stopped, declaring they were going to set up for the night, Martin nearly passed out in happiness.

"Don't scream," Theresa warned lightly, her hands going to the gag. "It's not as if anybody is near enough to hear you."

Gently she pulled the gag out. Martin groaned, finally able to close his mouth. "Water," he croaked.

"Yes, of course," said Theresa, pulling over a pouch. She placed the nozzle against his lips, and with one hand on the back of his neck, tilted the pouch, allowing the water to quietly dribble into his mouth. "Slowly."

Martin closed his eyes as he quenched his thirst, humiliated he had to drink in such a way. He felt like a babe drinking from his mother's tit. When he was done, he pulled away. Droplets of the water spilled down his chin.

Theresa reached out with a hand to wipe it off.

"Please don't," Martin said, flinching away. "Don't... be nice."

"I'm not going to hurt you."

She wasn't. Without her even saying it, Martin knew she wouldn't. "Don't..." he said again.

Theresa set out to make a fire, gathering dry twigs and grass for kindle. With his arms and legs tied, all Martin could do was watch her tiredly.

Ransom. How much was Theresa asking? How much was Douglas _willing_ to pay? The dragon was so very rich, not even Martin has seen the end of the treasure rooms in the cave. That amount of wealth could drive monarchs insane with wanting to obtain it.

"How did you do it?" Martin asked. "How did you get in the caves?"

The magic surrounding the caves was so thick, it often felt like walking through rotted milk. Especially around the entrance; Douglas bragged the spells could keep the wizard king out.

"Your dragon is very foolish," Theresa said. "Blood spells. Anyone with half a mind could slip in between those barriers."

"What are you insinuating? That my brother or sister helped you?" Caitlin had been so horrified by Martin's marriage, she fainted when she heard the news. No way would she ever go near Douglas' cave.

Theresa tossed him a disbelieving look. "You really don't remember, do you?"

"Remember what?"

Theresa reached inside of her tunic. She pulled out a silver chain that hanged around her neck. Dangling from it was a gold ring.

Martin recognized it immediately. "You... you kept it? After all this time?"

"I remember the day you proposed to me," Theresa giggled, staring at the ring fondly. "You were so nervous. You dropped this like four times before you even got on one knee."

Heat erupted across Martin's cheeks. His heart sped up, his breath quickened. "I was fifteen. You told me we were too young, how is that possible-"

"Because you still _meant it._ Age does not matter, you know this. Yes, I'll admit I was dubious this ring could get me past the dragon's spells, but it did. The promise infused with this ring brought me to you. Just say it, Martin. Some small part of you is still in love with me."

Martin turned away, unable to look at her any longer. "That's irrelevant."

"Because of the dragon," Theresa said flatly. "Are you in love with him?"

He didn't know. After spending these months with Douglas, Martin could honestly say he felt a certain amount of affection towards the dragon. Though deep in his own heart, Martin had no idea if he could ever come to love him. Their marriage vows only needed to last five years. After that, Martin was free to stay with Douglas or divorce him. He often wondered what he would do when the time came. "That's none of your business."

"Stubborn... May you live a thousand years, Martin. Get some sleep. We got another long day of riding tomorrow."

 

 

 

 

 

"Stop, stop," Martin begged. His stomach was clenching in protest. "I need to rest."

"Alright," said Theresa, slowing the horse. "But only for a little bit."

Theresa hasn't once loosened the bindings on Martin's wrists or ankles. He could still feel his fingers and toes, but the forced position his limbs were in was agony. His shoulders and knees wailed in agony. It was bad enough he had to urinate like this.

The moment his feet hit the dirt, Martin grunted and his knees collapsed underneath him. Theresa kept him from crashing to the ground. She gently lowered him down. "Good Lord, Martin, you should've told me you were suffering so much," she hissed in sympathetic pain. She took out a small knife from her hip and cut through the bindings.

Martin groaned out loud, slowly moving his arms and feet apart. Every movement sent a million little pin pricks digging deep into his muscles. His wrists were rubbed red. His skin itched and all he wanted to do was scratch the skin off.

"Here," Theresa said, kneeling down in front of him. "Let me clean that for you."

Martin thought about running. He thought about overpowering Theresa and stealing her horse. He eyed her knife and wondered, for a second, if he had the guts to kill her.

Theresa wet the end of a clothe, scooted closer, and began to clean his wrists. She was so immensely gentle in her administrations, with her head bowed, concentrating on the task. A few strands of her brown, curly hair fell loose from her bun, draping over her eyes and cheek.

She was still so beautiful. "Are you still in love with me?"

Theresa looked up into his eyes. "I never stopped," she said sadly.

Without thinking about it, Martin leaned forward and kissed her gently on the lips.

He realized in that moment the last person he kissed- the _only_ person he has ever kissed- was Theresa. It felt so long ago when they were teenagers, occasionally pecking each other on the cheeks, sometimes on the lips, never allowing themselves to go too far. Martin knew if they ever did more than kiss, neither would have their virginity to offer in marriage.

Theresa opened her mouth to him, kissing him deeper, longer, as one of her hands came up to cup his jaw.

Martin wanted to touch her back, to feel her hair, but his shoulders still hurt too much to move. So he kissed her the best he could, savouring her lips, her tongue, the smell of her skin. He missed this, he missed this so much.

Theresa pulled back, just enough to speak. "Tell me you love me," she said, nearly begging. "Say yes. Be my husband."

"I..."

He almost said it. He was so drunk on her lips he was surprised the words didn't come tumbling out of his mouth. Instead, what he said was,

"I... can't. Douglas."

Theresa jerked back. Something flashed across her face, an emotion too fast for Martin to register, then she huffed and said, "Damn. I was so close too."

"What?"

Her mouth twisted into an ugly sneer. "You're so loyal, Martin. I should've known it would take a little more than a pretty face to get you to denounce the dragon."

Martin was horrified. So it was all a _trick?_ "You..."

He shoved his hands forward, striking Theresa across the shoulders, knocking her back. He tried to get to his feet to run away, but Theresa was faster than him, and she kicked him in the back of his knee, collapsing his leg.

She was on top of him in a moment, struggling with him, trying to subdue him. Ever since with his marriage with Douglas, Martin had neglected his studies in fighting. This should have been easy. Muscle memory was still there, and both of them fought, grabbling with each other, each trying to break the other's hold and overpower.

No actual blows were exchanged. Martin, for the life of him, could not bring himself to punch or kick or bite. All he could was deflect and shove.

Not even Theresa tried to hurt him.

Ultimately Martin's exhaustion was his downfall. Theresa managed to push him on his back, crawled on top of him and held him down till he stopped struggling. Her hands held his wrists down, squeezing them just enough to cause pain from where the bindings sat.

Martin was gasping, struggling to slow his breathing down. "Why don't you... just... rape me...?"

If she really was serious about making him her husband, that was one option to take. Theresa frowned, but said nothing.

"You won't..." Martin gasped. "You won't... hurt me. Not like that. You won't... force me. You're desperate... desperate enough to face... the rage of a dragon... but not enough... to... to... good trick, that. Pretending you were... manip...pu...la...ting me. I almost fell for it."

"What makes you think I was lying?"

"I've been taught about hostage situations..." Martin said. His breathing was getting calmer. "When some hostages try to escape, their captives sometimes will cut off one of the fingers to curb further attempts. Here," he said, reaching down awkwardly to tap his fingers against Theresa's hand. "Will you cut this one of them off to show you mean business?"

Theresa stared at him, mouth twisting. She huffed, and got off him. "I forgot how smart you are," she said. "What happened to the flustered, panicky Martin I used to know?"

Martin pushed himself up, and nearly fell back down again. If he wanted to run he wouldn't get far. "Theresa, let me go. This isn't going to end well for you."

"I know," she said. "But I can't go back empty handed. My people are suffering, Martin."

"Then send another envoy. Not to Douglas, to me. I'll personally see it gets read."

Martin didn't know why Douglas never got a plea from her. Maybe it was a political block preventing him from helping. Maybe it was something as simple as the envoy getting lost. Either way, despite it all, Martin wanted to help her. Even if all he could do was send her cows.

Theresa stared at him sadly. The fight had loosened her bun and her hair bloomed out around her like a flower, wild and big. She was the strongest person Martin knew. She was determined and kind, passionate and brave. Martin couldn't help but wonder what life would be like if he said _yes_ at this very moment.

"No."

Martin startled, watching Theresa as she shook her head. "I cannot risk being ignored again. I cannot wait."

From her bag, she brought out fresh rope.

"Theresa..." Martin said, pulling away. He had no strength to resist. "Don't do this."

He tried to fight back. He was like a baby lamb, fresh from birth, unable to fend for himself as Theresa tied him up again. "You're right, though," she said, heaving him up to his feet so she could place him back on the horse. "I won't hurt you. I won't force you. But I won't let you go."

She paused in her movements. She briefly looked over her shoulder, staring off into the distance, then in one swift move, heaved herself up on the horse.

"Your dragon is persistent," she snapped, grabbing a clothe. She tied it tightly around Martin's mouth, gagging him. "I thought the poison would put him out of commission long enough to lose our trail. Hold on tight, we're riding hard."

She kicked in the sides of her horse, spurring it to sprint.

With his tied legs over on one side, his tied hands unable to grip anything but the short-cut mane of the horse, combined with his exhaustion, with every sharp gallop of the horse Martin felt like he was going to fall off. With one arm Theresa held on to him but even he could feel the grip was awkward for her. If Martin fell now, he would surely be injured seriously.

A giant shadow flew over head, and Theresa yanked on the reigns hard, nearly forcing the horse to rear on its hind legs in response.

Douglas landed right in front of them, making the earth shake beneath his feet. He bellowed out his wings, blocking out the sun, towering over them.

The horse gave out such a squeal, Martin was surprised it didn't keel over and die of fright in that instance. Theresa held onto the reigns, keeping the horse from taking off in fear.

" _Release his highness,_ " Douglas growled so loudly, Martin could feel the vibrations through his own chest. " _And I just might let you die a painless death_."

"No," Theresa hissed, taking out her knife. She placed it under Martin's chin. Not angled to cut, but the threat was obvious. "I'll trade him for a million gold coins."

She wouldn't dare cut him. Douglas didn't know that.

 _"I am not negotiating with you,_ " Douglas snarled. _"Your husband's ancestors killed my mate. I'll be damned if I involve myself with that kingdom any longer."_

Martin made a small noise of inquiry. He didn't know about this.

"My husband has been dead for over two years now," Theresa said. "His ancestors, not mine, killed your mate. Do not allow petty differences that happened over a hundred years ago affect us now."

" ** _Petty?_ ** You hold a blade against my spouse's neck and you _dare_ call me petty?"

"You've ignored my pleas for help based off prejudices from three generations ago. My people are starving in the streets and yet you hold them responsible for the sins of others! So yes, dragon, you are petty."

Douglas took a threatening step forward. "You're lucky I didn't _burn_ the entire kingdom to the ground!"

Everything was wrong, so wrong. Even if the gag was not in place, Martin had no idea what he would say, what he could do to keep this from turning this into an all out war. Would he stand by the woman he loved or by the dragon who has come for him?

Then abruptly, to the surprise of everyone, the horse did die of fright.

It shivered for a moment, and when Theresa's grip on Martin loosened in that second of surprised, the horse suddenly collapsed underneath them. Both of them yelled out as they crashed to the ground.

There was a blurred movement, and Martin was swept up in Douglas' grip. A claw tore away the bindings on his limbs and mouth. "Martin, are you hurt?"

"No, I..."

"Good, give me a moment."

In the fall, the horse had fallen on top of Theresa, trapping her leg underneath the body. Theresa was struggling to get out, pushing against the dead animal with no avail.

Douglas bent his head over her, opened his jaw and-

"Douglas, no, wait, don't-!"

At Martin's yell, Douglas gulped back the flames, grimacing as he did so. "What?"

What could Martin say? Theresa had broken into their home, poisoned Douglas, kidnapped Martin, held him for ransom and threatened to kill him. Douglas had every right to set her ablaze.

"Please..." was all Martin could say. "Don't kill her. I beg of you."

Theresa was staring at him from her position on the ground, eyes wet, laying back, ready to accept the punishment laid out for her. She wasn't going to beg for her life, so Martin was going to do it for her.

"Martin, this woman has _declared war_ on us!" Douglas said. A burst of smoke spewed out of his nostrils. "I must kill her!"

"I know, I know... but please... I beg of you, spare her..."

He wouldn't blame Douglas if he killed Theresa right then and there. He wouldn't blame him, and yet knew if Douglas followed through, Martin would hate him for the rest of his life.

Douglas growled, reached down and grabbed the horse's body, tossing it aside like it was nothing. Before Theresa could get a chance to move, he snatched her up off the ground.

He held her in front of her mouth, allowing her to get a full view of his teeth. "You and I... we need to have a little _talk_."

 

 

 

 

 

"Martin, go with the elves, have them clean you up."

Martin's body felt like it weighed three hundred pounds. He would love nothing more than to slip into a warm bath and drown himself. "Wait, Theresa..."

Douglas still held Theresa in his claw, giving her no room lest she be sliced by a sharp edge. It must've been uncomfortable in that position as Douglas flew them back to the caves. She didn't look frightened, so that was something. But the muscles in her cheeks were tight, her jaw stiff from gritting her teeth. She has not spoken a word the entire way.

"I give you my word, she will not be harmed," Douglas said. "Now go, this won't take long."

By the insistent small hands of the elves, Martin let himself be pulled away from Douglas and Theresa.

He was given a bath, and resisted the urge to duck his head under the warm water and never resurface. He was given food afterwards, though he had no appetite. The most he could swallow was a few pieces of bread and two cups of tea. He wanted to sleep, but kept refusing to go to bed. He wanted to hear Douglas' final assessment.

He waited, nodded off a few times, biting the inside of his cheek as he did so.

By the time Douglas came back, Martin thought he was going to faint.

Douglas practically threw himself on the floor, groaning loudly. He too looked like he could faint at any moment.

"Are you alright?"

"I'll be fine," Douglas mumbled irritably. "The poison has not entirely left my body. I'm running on fumes at this point."

Guilt crashed over Martin. This whole time, his thoughts had been on Theresa. He'd forgotten Douglas was poisoned the previous day. "Was it terrible?"

" _Was it terrible?_ " Douglas echoed back, pushing his head up, snarling. "As I laid there, gagging and joking on my vomit and _blood_ , watching as you were dragged away by a masked assailant while the fucking useless elves stood by and _watched_ , you ask if it was _terrible_?"

Before Martin could open his mouth- to defend himself or beg for forgiveness, he didn't know- Douglas coughed, wretched his head and said, "Fuck. _Fuck_ , I am not angry at you. This whole goddamn situation has me spitting embers nonstop. Fuck, I need to kill something."

Martin eased himself on the floor, curling his body near Douglas' snout. "Tell me about your mate. What happened?"

Douglas closed his eyes. "Isabella," he said. "She has been the mother to many of my offspring. We only met every few hundred years to mate. The last time we got together, war was declared on me. _Unannounced_. Isabella, who should've been recovering from our mating, could not defend herself. She was killed, not because she was a threat, but because of _bragging rights_."

The guilt twisted ugly deep in Martin's guts. It was a damn miracle Douglas even listened to Theresa. If it was the other way around, if Martin had been witness to the murder of his mate, he wouldn't have hesitated.

"I don't miss her," Douglas said. "But she was the mother of my kin and that needs to be respected."

He huffed. "Now that I told you my story," Douglas grunted, moving out his arm. Dangling from one of his claws, was Theresa's gold ring. "Tell me about this."

Though he said he wasn't angry with Martin, there was anger in his voice. If Douglas had known Martin tried to pledge himself to Theresa before, would he have agreed on the marriage?

"I was fifteen, Douglas."

"You still meant it."

"I did. She didn't accept it, saying we should wait. The ring was more symbolism than anything. I didn't know she kept it."

"Humph. How strange that this little thing could cause so much trouble."

A stream of flame erupted out of Douglas' mouth, hitting the ring. Martin gasped and moved back, watching tiny droplets of melted gold hit the floor where it cooled into small, flat shapes.

Betrayal and hatred overcame the guilt. _Douglas didn't need to do that_. He could have tossed the ring into a random pile of treasure and forget about it. Once Martin or Theresa was dead, the promise the ring held would've become useless. Did he feel _that_ threatened?

"Her Highness declared war on me," Douglas said. Martin didn't want to listen to him. He kept staring down at the solid puddles of gold as angry tears gathered at the sides of his eyes. "And I won. By all laws, her highness is now my prisoner and her lands now belong to me."

He took a breath.

"But my new lands, as I have been informed recently, are in dire need. I will need to send seedlings, animals, and workers if I plan to have it flourish to benefit me."

Martin blinked. Was he really...? "Douglas..."

"Though I don't know what I will do with her highness. I cannot execute her or else it will cause the people to revolt. But I cannot let her go and risk civil war. So she will stay here, as my prisoner, until I say otherwise."

It was more than Martin could ever ask for.

He threw himself forward, forgetting the gold on the ground, and hugged Douglas' snout. "Thank you," Martin said. "I promise I'll be the best spouse you ever had. Thank you..."

"You're going to be the death of me," Douglas murmured.


End file.
